Ace of Coca

I stepped outside early this morning before I had decided what I was going to do with the day. The air was cool enough that I pulled my sweater tighter around me, and for a while I simply stood there looking at the mountains. I could feel the uneven stones beneath my shoes and the warmth of the cup I was holding between my hands. Somewhere nearby I could smell breakfast cooking, and I could hear someone sweeping the pavement.

I have spent so much of this journey thinking about where I am going next that I sometimes forget the simplest fact: I am already here. My feet are in Peru. My body is breathing this air. These mountains are actually in front of me. I stayed there until I finished my tea, doing absolutely nothing except feeling myself standing in this place.